


The Middle of Gotham

by Holmes_and_the_Roman



Series: Elijah's Lover [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Foreplay, I'm Sorry, It's Not Good, No Sex, No Smut, Please Don't Hate Me, idk - Freeform, pillowtalk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holmes_and_the_Roman/pseuds/Holmes_and_the_Roman
Summary: The fourth and final piece in the saga of Elijah's Lover (several months too late). Picks up where Till Death Do We Part leaves off.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is crappy because I had college stuff to do. I still love Elijah Van Dahl, don't get me wrong, but I'm only posting this because I promised someone. If I get around to it, I'll edit it and make it better, but for now, I'm done with "Elijah's Lover". On that note, leave a comment or kudos or not if you don't like it.

You got to your feet slowly and stood to face Elijah. “You fucking asshole,” you hissed. Elijah’s face fell in remorse. “You son of a bitch!” you screamed, slamming your fist on the buffet. It rattled at your force and your hand was surely going to be bruised, but you were so mad that you did not even flinch at the pain. You wanted to laugh and cry and slap him in the face all at once, but instead you just backed away.

Elijah nodded in sincerity. “I’m sorry, __(y/n)__,” he said quietly.

“How the hell am I supposed to respond? I fucking buried you, Elijah!” you shouted, your hands clenching. “Do you know how that felt? Do you wanna know how much I fucking cried! I wanted to die, Elijah! Do you hear me? That’s how badly it hurt,” you spat venomously. You paced a few steps, still staring down Elijah.

Elijah sighed sadly. “My dear—” he started.

“And Oswald!” you interrupted. “That poor guy; he’s out of his mind, because he just lost his mother and now his father! And he thinks both of their deaths are his fault? What in the absolute hell was your reasoning? Why did you cause so much pain?” You were now sobbing fully, angry tears streaming down your red face.

There was a heavy silence that filled the air between you two. Elijah let out a heart-breaking shudder as he turned his eyes to the ground. Perhaps it was a trick of the mind, but you thought you saw a solitary tear drop from his face.

Your anger levels lowered just enough so that when you approached him again you were fairly sure you would not hit him. “Elijah, I want to understand. Just tell me in one word what the actual fucking hell happened,” you said darkly.

Elijah looked up into your eyes and searched your soul. He took a step toward you. “Grace,” he said simply.

It took you a moment before you realized he was talking about Mrs. Van Dahl. You put two and two together, saying, “I’m going to kill that bitch.”

“No,” Elijah was quick to respond. He placed his hands on your upper arms. “She didn’t mean to poison me. She wanted Oswald dead.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re alive,” you pointed out.

Elijah nodded and led you over to your small sofa where he sat you down. He shifted closer to you on the sofa and gently took your hand in his. “Grace has always had a control issue. She wanted to control this whole situation with Oswald once she found out what he did in his past. I knew that she would try something, though I did not know what.”

You blinked incredulously. “How did you know it was poison?”

“I noticed an accumulation of rat poison in certain areas, yet the Van Dahl house has never had an issue with those creatures,” Elijah explained. “Did you know that there is an animal poison that has essentially no tells in reference to it’s presence?”

“Grace put it in your drink,” you deduced.

“And I switched the decanter. I had to show Grace that she was not in control and never would be. Oswald is my son and I will not let him suffer for Grace’s narcissistic desire for power,” Elijah said.

You sighed in relief. “They won’t come looking for you?”

“No one looks for a dead man, my dear,” Elijah stated, a small smirk appearing.

You smiled, a few more happy tears squeezing from your eyes. You leaned over to hug Elijah tightly. You never wanted to let go: his scent of mint and cognac flooding your senses, the warmth of his touch, the calming sound of his breathing. He was alive.

You pulled away enough so that your noses almost touched. With a loving smile, Elijah kissed you gently holding you slightly closer. You trailed kisses up to his ear where you whispered, “Touch me.”

Elijah turned his head quizzically. “Are you sure?” he questioned.

“Please, I need to know if this is real, Elijah… please… make love to me,” you begged, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Then, come, my angel,” Elijah softly murmured. He helped you up and began to kiss you with deep passion. His hands slid down to your hips and then wrapped around your lower back. He pushed you gently up against a wall and explored your neck and collarbone with his reverent lips. Your breasts heaved with each breath you took, and your head leaned against the wall. Elijah’s experienced fingers dragged down the front of your body until they reached the hem of the shirt. His hands ghosted over the skin of your thighs, causing goosebumps to appear everywhere.

You squeezed your eyes shut as he reverently explored your body with his lips and fingers. Each touch you were sure was a fantasy that your grieving mind had created to cope with your loss. Every time he broke contact with your skin, you were afraid he would disappear forever. Your emotions got the better of you and a few tears fell from your closed eyes.

Elijah stopped as soon as he saw your tears. He placed his hands on your cheeks. “My flower, tell me why you’re crying,” he said softly.

You sniffed. “It doesn’t feel real, Elijah…” He brushed a few tears away with his thumbs, his eyes staring into yours. “I don’t want you to leave me again.” You stifled a sob in your throat.

“Oh, my love,” Elijah murmured as he drew you into an embrace. “I will never leave you ever again. You mean too much to me, __(y/n)__. You will never be alone,” he reassured you. He pulled away and took your hands in his. “Come,” he beckoned, leading you to your bed. He gently laid you on the mattress and climbed on top of you.

“So beautiful,” Elijah breathed, tracing a finger down your cheek. He tugged at the hem of your panties and lounge pants, wanting your approval. You nodded once and he removed the clothing, exposing your womanhood.

 

You laid on your side facing Elijah. You carefully studied his face, drinking in his features that you so missed. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, gently tracing his visage with your thumb. He hummed in pleasure and place his hand over yours. Elijah’s dark, piercing eyes closed as he nudged his head closer to yours.

Suddenly, you chuckled lightly at a rather unexpected thought. Elijah laughed as well and lightly kissed the tip of your nose before asking, “What is it, my dear?”

“I just had a thought,” you started. “What if we ran away?”

Elijah smiled brightly. “Ran away?”

“Yeah. What if we just packed up everything and ran away to Paris or London? We wouldn’t even tell Oswald.” You brought Elijah’s hand down to entwine your fingers.

“Paris…” Elijah repeated.

“We could get a townhouse in the middle of the city. You could be a tailor somewhere and I could work in a museum or somewhere. It would be so romantic.”

Elijah kissed you lovingly. “What a beautiful fantasy,” he whispered.

You giggled, running your fingers through Elijah’s hair. “I doesn’t have to be a fantasy. We could leave tomorrow. We’d be away from everyone and everything that has to do with Gotham.”

Elijah’s face fell slightly. “But Oswald… he’s my son. I can’t abandon him, especially when he believes I’m dead.”

Your heart sank. Elijah was right. Oswald was his son, and you were basically the only person holding Oswald to this life. “You’re completely right, Elijah. I’m sorry I suggested it. It was stupid,” you said, shuffling away from Elijah sheepishly.

“No, no, my dear. Nothing you say is ever stupid. It was a lovely thought. But I’m just worried about Oswald. He relies on you now, and if you leave, I don’t think my fragile son will survive. He will think everyone has abandoned him.” Elijah looked away, his eyes glazing over. “My precious boy.”

“Then I suppose you’ll tell him you’re alive?” you asked.

Elijah sighed. “It’s very difficult, my dear. I fear I cannot, as I might keep Oswald from his true potential. He’s been dependent on a parent for all his life. He must learn to become independent.”

You furrowed your brow. “But I thought you wanted me to stay…”

Elijah nodded. “I do, __(y/n)__. His relationship with you is different than that of a parent. You are a colleague, a friend. He cannot solely depend on you for everything as his had with his mother.”

You nodded. “Can we still see each other?” You looked into Elijah’s eyes, searching for a reply.

“Of course, my sweet flower.” He pulled you close into a warm embrace and kissed the top of your head. 

“Can you stay here, with me?” you asked. “If you’re going to be dead for Oswald, you can’t stay in your mansion.”

Elijah hummed in affirmation. “It wouldn’t be Paris, but we could get a townhouse in the middle of Gotham.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Gotham or any characters affiliated with the TV show. All rights go to the creators and Fox Broadcasting Company.


End file.
